Walk Away
"I think I might be depressed," I said to my family at the dinner table.
"You do?" Talia asked. "Is that bad?"
"Yes, it is bad, but no, I really don't think so," I answered. I should know better than to kid about something as serious as depression. The condition runs in our family and I know what it can do to a person when it catches someone in its claws. Somehow, someway, the rampant depression genes skipped me over. I thank God for that every day, and I am not kidding.
I looked at my family. Three blond heads and one red-head, slurping spaghetti and talking loudly over one another. They quieted again when I spoke, something that rarely happens.
"I don't know what it is," I continued. "Actually, I do. I am tired. The cat has had me up every night for at least two weeks. I'm just tired." In my head, I went on with my rant. And the living room is a mess. You guys have been building that contraption for days. Aren't you done yet? I need to vacuum. I mean, I NEED to vacuum. The lack of control over my clean house is getting to me. I want to walk away.
That last sentence sums it up for me right now, but I am glad that I didn't say it aloud. I am not trying to whine or complain. I am just stating the facts. I have a lot on my plate at the moment, and the thing I want to do right now is to walk away from it all. Find myself a cup of tea, a good book, and a silent room, and hole up in it for days. Weeks even. Call that depression, call me a bad mom, call me what you want, but I'll call me being honest. Because don't we all have days like that?
"You do?" Talia asked. "Is that bad?"
"Yes, it is bad, but no, I really don't think so," I answered. I should know better than to kid about something as serious as depression. The condition runs in our family and I know what it can do to a person when it catches someone in its claws. Somehow, someway, the rampant depression genes skipped me over. I thank God for that every day, and I am not kidding.
I looked at my family. Three blond heads and one red-head, slurping spaghetti and talking loudly over one another. They quieted again when I spoke, something that rarely happens.
"I don't know what it is," I continued. "Actually, I do. I am tired. The cat has had me up every night for at least two weeks. I'm just tired." In my head, I went on with my rant. And the living room is a mess. You guys have been building that contraption for days. Aren't you done yet? I need to vacuum. I mean, I NEED to vacuum. The lack of control over my clean house is getting to me. I want to walk away.
That last sentence sums it up for me right now, but I am glad that I didn't say it aloud. I am not trying to whine or complain. I am just stating the facts. I have a lot on my plate at the moment, and the thing I want to do right now is to walk away from it all. Find myself a cup of tea, a good book, and a silent room, and hole up in it for days. Weeks even. Call that depression, call me a bad mom, call me what you want, but I'll call me being honest. Because don't we all have days like that?
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